Chocolate Cake

How much of what we believe we remember is based on experience. And how much is due to the stories we have been told. And do we remember what happened because the events left an indelible mark? Or do they linger because we or those around us, have continued to tell those stories, reminding us, over time?

As a feature writer and, in particular, as a memoirist, I believe I carry so many memories of things that happened and the feelings that linger from the earliest days of my life because I have turned them into story. And because I continue to tell them in conversation or on the page.

I understand that the more traumatic events carve their own impressions in our hearts and minds. Which is why I still remember Jamie Angles’ name and face and cries when our second-grade teacher broke the yardstick over his backside in front of the class because he was talking “to his neighbor.” And why I remember Carmen Clemen’s name and how she held my twin sister’s head under water in the pool when we were six, until I could get there and slug her in the gut. Or how I cried because I had lost my white gloves when we were three, so I had none to wear to church on Easter. Until my twin sister said, “It’s okay, feetheart, I gots two,” and handed me one of hers. We each wore a glove on our outer hand and held each other’s bare hand as we walked into church.

These are the stories that linger, so accurately, whether we tell them or not.

But would I remember what happened during seemingly mundane activities of my day if I did not submit them into story?

Yesterday, I stopped in at Safeway to buy just two things. And I actually stuck to my list: goat yogurt and zucchini, both for our dog. I know. But in the canine capital of the country, this does not raise an eyebrow. Anyway. . .Just outside the glass doors sat a woman on the wooden bench, her single cloth shopping bag plump with groceries, beside her. She smiled. My return smile prompted conversation.

“I’m waiting for my ride,” she said, “but he’s late. It’s a ride company, and he’s never late.”

I knew, without words, that I would wait with her until her ride arrived.

“Today is my 89^th birthday,” she said.

I let go of the shopping cart I was about to extract from the stack, stepped closer, and said, “Happy Birthday! How will you celebrate today?”

“Well I’m alone now,” she said, “but friends are coming by, with cake. I’m hoping for chocolate.”

I learned, over the course of the next 20 minutes that, in addition to a shared love of chocolate, she and I had both gotten our graduate degrees at Sac State. That she and I both adore dogs and that this petite woman has always had Great Pyrenees. “If you ever have the chance to look one in the eyes,” she said, “you will understand why.”

Once her ride showed up, and the driver, who also had kind eyes, had settled her into the backseat of his car, I grabbed a cart and returned to my mission to collect “dog food.”

When passing the floral department, I came upon a woman, also 89, whom I consider a dear friend. She also has light in her eyes and the kind of countenance that suggests she’s always been pretty. We talked about favorite flowers and what was already in her cart, acknowledging that the things we place there can reveal a whole story about who we are and our current stage of life.

After a hug, I moved on to the yogurt and vegetable sections. As I rounded the corner to begin making my way to the self-checkout aisle—I kinda love doing that—I came upon one of my most favorite physicians of all time, a retired surgeon. He gave me a hug and, as he stepped back, I noticed the twinkle in his eyes.

“I just turned 97,” he said.

Ninety-Seven. Something to sit with for a moment.

“My wife served the most amazing dinner,” he said, “ending with chocolate cake.”

“I’m thinking we should have you two over to dinner,” I said, “to celebrate this exceptional achievement one more time.”

“If there’s chocolate cake,” he said.

Maybe I’ll remember the encounters during what I had expected to be a short stop at Safeway because they were so special and because Safeway has always been an alchemy of grocery store-meets social hub. But just in case they get lost in the flurry of days, thank you for giving me the chance to shift them into story, so we can all carry the moment and the message forward.